faint grey ghost

Joe caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass door, the faint grey ghost of a figure reaching forward to grasp the brass handle. Joe grinned and felt a quick self-conscious laugh as the faded vision reminded him he didn’t look half bad. “I should get a haircut,” he murmured, pushing the curly mop of hair back from his forehead. “Next week,” Joe finished, shaking his head, contemplating his schedule. A tug erased the image and led him back inside the tall office building.

Lord Malinov, Journals of Lord Malinov

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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